Flies
by SilentLikeAShadow
Summary: What if House had gone in? Alternate ending to 'The Itch', 5X07.


**Woah, dude, check this out! That crazy Hacy fan is writing a Huddy fic!**

** No way, dude!**

**For your information, I ALSO love Huddy. I don't have to choose. **

**First things first, you should know that House is starting to lose his sanity. So there is a part where he's arguing with himself. It's not _that_ crazy, we all have done it (I hope), and there's quite a bit of Vicodin. I just thought you should know that before going in.**

**Takes place after 'The Itch'.**

**Hmm, I don't have much else to say. **

**Oneshot or longer? I don't know, tell me what you think.**

**Oh, and btw, it is kinda in a different style then I normally write at some points. It kinda rambles on. But I had to write after watching that episode. **

He stared at the door for the longest time. The way the flies just ignorantly kept flying into the light and burning their little bodies intrigued him. Well, no, they didn't really, but House wish he could be brave like them. He wished he could go through soaring pain and be stupid enough to do it again. Who knows? Maybe this time the bulb won't scald him.

The ironic part was he always did it again, even when he didn't try to. His life was more or less a constant cycle of pain – dull or sharp, fresh or old. His leg or his heart. There was always pain – always – and he relished the fact he at least could control it a bit.

What he hated most was the confusion. He loathed it. He wished it was stupid enough to be like the fly and fly straight into the fire. At least the fly knew what he was going for. Confusion, on the other hand, didn't have a definition or a purpose. It was something that couldn't be understood, let alone controlled. This is why Gregory House was never caught confused or uncertain. He always knew what he wanted. He'd always get it, too.

Until now. Now, he was standing like a big, obvious – confused – dumbass on Cuddy's porch, staring at the flies crashing into the bulb over and over again. He hadn't figured out a thing. He had no idea what he wanted, but yet he continued to stand motionless on his boss' front step.

Tiredly, he thought over again why he was here. _Because they kissed_, he thought, and then scowled. He turned to leave. He kissed tons of women, and he had rarely been found on their porch – confused – later on. He was an idiot – who took relationship advice from a guy who had had three divorces and a dead girlfriend? Deciding, he turned to leave. He was an idiot.

_You're running away again, like you always do._

Something made him stop, nagging away.

_Coward. You're running away again!_

He growled. Tonight was not his night. Not only did he stand stupidly on his boss' porch for a quarter of an hour, now he was having an argument with himself in the middle of the street. Maybe that last Vicodin hadn't been such a good idea.

_That kiss meant something. That's why you're running away._ The voice said smugly. He shrugged it off.

_Fine. Maybe you were meant to be forever alone._

Fear coursed through House. He wasn't going to be forever alone. He couldn't be.

_But you will._

Who needs Wilson when you can have your own conscience, anyway? With that, and fear still pulsing through him, House whirled around and charged back to her porch. He wanted to scream it, just say that he loved her, but he couldn't find the words to do so. He found himself back at stage one, staring at the flies that so blindly crashed into the light. Didn't they get that they'd never get as close to the warmth as they wanted to? That they'd always miss it and crave it?

_Damn it, just knock, _he silently scolded himself. With a deep breath and a comforting pill of Vicodin swimming down his throat, House knocked before he could think twice about it.

A second later Cuddy opened the door, surprised to see him standing there. Tormented, he didn't say anything for a second.

"Hi."

"Hi," she answered, eyeing him suspiciously. Why was he here? He didn't have a case at the moment.

"There's a mosquito at my place, I was wondering if I could stay here?"

She was not expecting that. She eyed him for another disbelieving second, lingering briefly on his eyes. They were red, and studying her with amazing intensity. She tried to inspect their blue depths but he masked them as soon as he realized her plan.

"Uh, sure." She opened the door wider, sidestepping to allow him to come in. He did so, shrugging off his jacket and entering the familiar living room.

"Do you want some coffee or something?" She offered. He shook his head no, popping another nervous Vicodin. She returned her coffee cup to the kitchen then came back into the living room. Both parties chose to ignore the awkwardness lingering between them, the night resembling much to one of a few days ago. They were both thinking of that night.

They took their sweet time to study each other, especially on Cuddy's part. The first thing she noticed was the fact he hadn't brought anything suggesting he'd planned to stay the night. He'd come in with nothing except his jacket. Maybe it was typical House, but it nagged at her nonetheless. The second thing she noticed was the nervousness. His eyes darted around, avoiding hers, and he shifted constantly in the silence. Something was up, and Cuddy could feel it.

The incredibly uncomfortable silence lingered on, as House refused to say anything and Cuddy was still sorting her thoughts on him. Much like the flies outside, House couldn't stand it and voluntarily leapt back into the everlasting fire, terrified of being burned.

"Cuddy…" He started quietly.

After denying and avoiding the reason he'd come for the past minutes, Cuddy had finally come to the conclusion she was terrified of. The fact he'd come back for a repeat performance. A part of her rejoiced at this, as a part of her always had wanted it, but her sane mind was still screaming that it would be a mistake, if, she too, was dumb enough to be like the flies. Cuddy was utterly terrified at what would happen now.

"House…" She said at the exact same time. Man and woman studied each other once again, their bravery dying on their lips along with each other's name.

"Ladies first," House gestured, his voice the same as always despite the fact he could swear he felt his heart pounding in every inch of his body.

_Always the gentlemen_, Cuddy sarcastically thought. She kept her eyes firmly planted on his gaze as she began, her eyes alone imploring and seeking. "You didn't come here because you wanted to stay the night."

"I'm pretty sure that's what I'm doing."

She hushed him with a stern look. "Maybe you did plan on staying the night, but it wasn't your main objective. First of all, you would've brought at least something besides your jacket-"

"-Vicodin, check-"

"And you would've gone to Wilson's place. You wouldn't randomly come here."

"Wilson doesn't have two glorious things hanging off his chest that I can stare at all night long."

"House." She gave him another stern look. He shushed again, now avoiding her gaze. "_You_ came back because _I_ kissed back."

He swiveled his eyes to meet hers, rising from the seat. Cuddy stood up as well, not liking the way he towered over her. Nothing separated them except the coffee table, and they were both trapped in each other's gentle – or not so gentle – demanding gaze. Cuddy burned into his eyes, seeking the answers she so desperately needed but dreaded, and House fought her all the way.

"I ran away that night." He started, choosing his words carefully. "Then when I'd sorted things out enough to know I _did_ want that kiss, you'd had enough time to think and were smart enough to run away as well."

Cuddy stayed silent, absorbing this and never peeling her eyes away from his, no matter how much it hurt or made either of them squirm.

"Flies. They need two things to survive – food and warmth."

Cuddy stared at him questioningly. Flies were a strange metaphor to use.

"There also almost impossible to just get rid of, and they annoy you to no end."

She nodded as if saying, _Go on_. This was going to be good, she knew it.

"I have all the food I need. I just need the warmth, but I must know that the fire won't burn me." He whispered.

She nodded. _I get it_. "But flies are completely useless to humans or to the light they seek." She pointed out softly, now studying his lips.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not really a fly." He murmured, closing his eyes as their lips touched. As if steel doors had opened, a flood of desire and need flooded Cuddy's veins. Her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed her body against his.

With her all the way, House pushed her down onto her knees and then slid her onto the couch, their lips never parting. She moaned into his mouth, and he mussed her hair. For long minutes they stayed like this, lying together on the couch, her hands trailing up and down his broad chest and his hands in her dark, bouncy curls. Cuddy admitted that this felt so natural, so familiar – _so right. _Unlike last time, though, she didn't fear it, she accepted it. _So be it,_ she dimly thought.

When they finally broke apart and gasped for air, House flipped over and down onto the rug, stunned and doubling over in pain and amazement. Despite the ache in his leg, his heart was soaring that she felt the same way. That he finally had figured out how she felt.

Cuddy stared at the ceiling, her chest arching and falling with each breath. She closed her eyes, hearing only the soft but laboured breathing of House beside her and the outrageous wildness in her heart. With a smile, she gladly acknowledged the fact this hadn't been a mistake, or at least didn't feel like one. She propped herself up on an elbow, staring down at a bewildered House.

"You're an ass." She giggled.

"I know." He pulled her off the couch and into her arms. Cuddy sighed happily, finally feeling good – peaceful wasn't exactly the best word to use to describe what she was feeling – after the turbulence of the past weeks. She let her head rest on his chest, allowing herself to be rocked.

"What now?" She asked timidly, scared of his answer.

"I don't know." He admitted. She nodded, though she felt some relief, she still felt confused. They rocked on a bit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"House?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought about what you said about that last kiss. I'm not running away this time. I… I think maybe we can work."

He thought about this, a pained tear running down his cheek that went unnoticed by Cuddy. She had no idea how long he'd anticipated, fantasized, even dreamed of her saying those words. She'd never taken him seriously. "I'd like that."

"I'm glad you came tonight."

House laughed at the fact it'd taken him half an hour to bring up the nerve to do so. "Me too."

At least one thing had been made clear that night. Despite the confusion, doctor and doctor had figured out the answer to one puzzle – yes, they did love each other. But that meant a whole new room of puzzles had been unlocked.

Yawning, House carried her to the bedroom, shuffling painfully despite Cuddy's lightness. He grimaced and clamped his teeth, urging each step until they made it to their destination. As if she were made of glass, House took the time to set her down comfortably. He climbed in next to her on the opposite side, popping yet another small white pill. The evening had left both of them drained and exhausted as they retreated into their own thoughts.

"Night, House."

"Good night, Cuddy."

Well, maybe the puzzles could wait for the morning.


End file.
